Canon: Remove if not applicable.They didn’t go to the library. Instead, they snuck through the halls to the office, the one that had belonged to Gralat’s mother. Gralat lit the Venetian lamp, and it cast soft colors around the room. The yellowed pages lying on the desk turned even more yellow in the light.
He kneeled beside a shelf that stood close to the desk, and pulled out a few books. After a few moments of watching him, Astolphe kneeled down beside him, and picked up one of the books. It was a thick volume, appearing to be about battle tactics. The other books were of a similar kind. It was not that surprising that Gralat would prefer such books, however… “These are not books one would normally find in a woman’s library.”
“Mother was apparently a warrior.” Gralat looked up, past Astolphe, and for the first time, Astolphe noticed a portrait that hung on a wall. It was of a family. Gralat’s family, probably. They were younger, but the man looked like Lord Berlurik, and the older teens looked like Lord Sigsteinn...and probably like the other brother. Then there was a woman. She had pale coloring as well, though it was hard to make out the exact colors in the light from the lamp. He could only assume that she had similar coloring as Gralat and his brothers; she did have a similarly shaped face. Gralat wasn’t part of the painting, and Astolphe could guess why. The painting had been painted before Gralat was born.
“Even though she was a woman?” The look Gralat gave him made Astolphe add, “I can’t speak for the Rheins, but such a thing is unheard of in the Baltic regions. At least among the Hermann.”
“It is not that common here.” Gralat tucked some hair behind an ear. He was still looking at the portrait of the family. He would not have known what his mother had looked like, had it not been for the portrait, would he? “But it is not so uncommon that it is seen as peculiar.”
“I see…” And surely, as a citizen of Ellvaldez, she would have preferred to die in battle, rather than as she was giving birth. Or so he assumed. But Astolphe wasn’t going to say that, even if that might be the thought that he could see in Gralat’s eyes. “Why do you keep the books in here?”
Gralat turned his gaze from the painting, and looked down at the book in Astolphe’s hands. “Because they would notice if any of them were missing.”
“Would that be bad?”
“It would be bad.”
“Then,” Astolphe considered what options Gralat might have in that case. “You read them in here instead of bringing them to your room?”
“Yes.” Gralat started replacing the books in the shelf. “Because I’m not actually supposed to be in here.” He lined up the books perfectly, so that none of them stood further out or in than the rest of them. “Amabel is allowed to clean, but she is just as particular about it.” He took the book Astolphe was holding and carefully replaced it as well. “As if they expect me to break the place because I never was close to mother.”
He didn’t sound bitter but he must still be bitter over it. Astolphe could tell that Gralat had a lot of complicated feelings regarding his family, and in particular regarding his mother. “Why don’t they keep the door locked, in that case?”
“Because my father is lousy with keys.”
Gralat might not be as indifferent toward his father as he was toward his brothers, or at least that was the way it seemed, but he still didn’t care if he insulted him. Astolphe had to wonder: did Lord Ragnfríðr know that? Did he mind? “Can I ask you something?”
The look on Gralat’s face was one that looked like he was saying ‘you’re asking me that now?’ or something of that sort. “That depends on what it is.”
“Well, your… mother, how did she...die..?” It wasn’t exactly right to say that she died of childbirth. But it wasn’t entirely wrong either, then.
Astolphe looked up when Gralat stood, and he watched him turn out the lamp. Gralat said nothing, for several moments, and Astolphe’s eyes had already started adjusting to the darkness in the room when he finally spoke. “She caught an illness. If she hadn’t been pregnant, it wouldn’t have been as bad, and if she hadn’t given birth, it wouldn’t have left her weakened enough for it to kill her.” Astolphe couldn’t really see Gralat’s expression.
“That’s—”
He obliged with silence when Gralat made a shushing sound, cutting him off, and after his eyes adjusted more to the darkness, he followed him to the door. Gralat cracked it open just a little bit, and Astolphe understood that he had not opened it further because he could hear the soft murmur of voices.
Trusting that Gralat would keep the door from opening further, Astolphe pressed an eye to the crack to see if he could see who was there.
He could, barely. Astolphe blinked rapidly in surprise. Gralat’s father, wrapped in the robe Astolphe had seen him in before, stood in the doorway to his room, and talking to him was Astolphe’s father.
They didn’t stay in the doorway for long. Astolphe’s father disappeared into Gralat’s father’s room, and the door closed behind him. Astolphe and Gralat stood still and quiet behind the office door for what felt like an eternity. Until Gralat pulled Astolphe out of the room and pulled him along to the guest room Astolphe was occupying, at the other side of the manor.
It wasn’t until they were safely inside the room that they looked at each other, one wide-eyed face mirroring the other. “Why... Why were they-... in the middle of the night—”
“I don’t know, it’s not something adult friends do?”
Astolphe shook his head vigorously. “Not that I know of, at least I’ve never seen or heard of father doing that back home.”
“Maybe they just want to catch up since father is finally feeling a lot better,” Gralat suggested, though he didn’t sound convinced.
“Has father visited your family a lot before?”
“Several times.” He added, because he could probably tell that Astolphe wanted to know if Gralat had seen them do this before, “I wasn’t exactly wandering the hallways that much, then.”
“That’s not very useful in a spy.”
Gralat gave Astolphe the blankest look that he had given him thus far.
“Maybe because I’m not a spy.”
“Anyone should still be observant at all times.”
“I’ll sprain your other ankle, too.”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
“Then don’t tell me to be observant at all times when you’re not.”
“Aren’t you petty.”
“I am very petty.”